


A Most Improbable Scenario

by GrittyReboot



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, POV Barry Allen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrittyReboot/pseuds/GrittyReboot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry Allen is a smart young man, thinking is what he does best, especially thinking about her. Or: how Barry and Iris fell in love on another Universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of people are interested in knowing how Earth 2 Westallen got together, myself included. This is my take on it. Also, since Barry Allen is still a CSI on Earth-2, I see no reason why Langston Hughes couldn't still be a poet, and Harvard couldn't still be a prestigious university.

I need to stop thinking about her. It’s every night now. I should be thinking about Harvard, Harvard should be on my mind nonstop. I should speak and dream in scientific facts and figures. But Harvard only crosses my mind when I’m trying to think about Harvard, when I’m trying _not_ to think about her.

It’s not as if there could ever be anything between us. She’s a jock, and I despise jocks, although she and the Lance sisters are the only girls on a LaCrosse team of 35 and never see the bench, which is rather admirable. Even still, I should be with a girl like Felicity Smoak, my intellectual equal and similar to myself in temperament and interests, if a bit overly preoccupied by Oliver Queen of all people, class president and LaCrosse star extraordinaire. Maybe if I were more like him I wouldn’t have to constantly be thinking of Iris, I could _have_ Iris. Not that I want her, because that’s a preposterous notion, but if I had her I wouldn’t have to be thinking of her all the time, I could be kissing her, and running my fingers through her long hair. It’s dark and thick and smells like gardenia; scientific name gardenia jasminoides, discovered by English Botanist John Ellis in 1761. _There you go, Bartholomew, think of productive things, perhaps Botany can be a subject of interest for you when you attend Harvard in the fall. You can study ivy, roses, irises._ Irises are a particularly beautiful flower, especially the oncocyclus. She’d look so cute with one tucked behind her ear.

 _Get it together Bartholomew, this is a waste of time._ I know she couldn’t possibly be thinking of me. Although her foot sometimes travels up my pantleg while I’m tutoring her in science, I know it is merely a manipulation. If only I knew why she felt the need. Maybe she's amused by the way I stammer and lose my words when she drops one shoe from her foot and runs it up my calf, slowly, in complete disconnect with the focused way she reads, takes notes and asks questions all the while. Perhaps she does it because she thinks I might go easier on her, give her the answers so she could leave tutoring early to gallivant around with Eddie, Oliver, and the rest of the LaCrosse guys. I don’t know why she would bother. I would never make it easy on someone as smart as Iris West. At first I thought there was nothing in that beautiful head of hers but air, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. She listens, she pays attention, even when she’s trying to pretend that she’s not. And the week before she described the basic concepts of string theory without missing a beat. She acted sarcastic and aloof about it and used the gargantuan number of hairpins and cakes of eyeshadow in her bag to do it, but it was an A plus summary nonetheless. 

Perhaps if she would have worked a little harder these past three and a half years, she would be able come with me. We would visit our respective dorms, and I would point out the constellations to her outside her window, and she would read me poetry from that Langston Hughes book she likes to hide in her desk. We would stay in her bed after dark, and we would whisper to each other across the pillow, careful not to wake her roommate. I would have to remind her to be even quieter when I reached over and touched her, I would have had to remind myself when she touched me back.

I don’t want Iris, I _can’t_ want Iris. She isn’t a practical choice for a long term partner, we are too different. I can talk about science for hours, she gets bored merely listing the elements; She exudes grace and confidence, while I am so shy and gawky as to be nearly crippled by it; She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen up close, and I am Bartholomew Henry Allen. So no, I don’t want her.

Except I want her so badly I can barely take it. I want her like grass wants water, I want her like cats want milk (although that’s a somewhat fallacious metaphor, as cats become far less partial to milk in their adulthood). I want her soft hair, and her dark, creamy thighs and her gardenia smell, and her perfect body against mine. I want her so badly I could cry. If only I could tell her, but she would laugh me out of the room. No, I mustn’t tell her. It will pass, once I’m at Harvard I’ll forget Iris West ever existed. I’ll forget her pretty eyes and her smile that always looks like it’s just for me. I’ll forget her gentle fingers on my knuckles when she’s leaning close to read my notes. I’ll forget the sound of her voice, like warm, melting honey, I'll forget how nervous she makes me, how she makes me laugh. I’ll forget Iris West, so there’s no point in losing another moment of sleep over her.

I take off my glasses, place them on my night stand and turn out the light, and I don’t think about Iris West, I don’t think about her at all.  
***  
“Barry? Bear? Are you awake?”

It’s that voice, that melting honey voice. I’m dreaming, I must be. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dreamt of Iris. I’m not proud of this, but sometimes when I dream about her our clothes are off, and she’s running her hands up my skinny ribs and kissing me like a lover, and when I wake up I’m hard in my pants. This is what this is, I’m dreaming. I’ll savor this, because dreaming is the closest I’ll ever get to being with her.

“Iris?” I whisper back, I feel around on the nightstand for my glasses, but she beats me to them, I can hear the hinges squeak as she unfolds them and hooks them around my ears. She comes into focus and her moonlit face, oval and flawless and framed by dark waves of gardenia-scented hair, is staring down at me.

“Sorry to wake you,” she whispers. “I know it’s late.”

I look at my bedside clock, it’s almost midnight.

“Iris, what are you doing here? How did you even get in?” I don’t care, I don’t care what she’s doing here, why am I even asking?

“You left your window unlocked and your room’s on the first level, not too smart for a brainy fella,” she reaches over to the bedside lamp and pulls the string, lighting the room. “I couldn’t wait anymore, I had to show you.”

She fishes a folded sheet of paper out of her bra and something twitches below my waist. I ignore it and take the paper from her. 

“It’s my midterm report, look” three A’s and six B’s, including B's in physics, chemistry, and trigonometry, her worst subjects.

“Thank you Barry Allen,” She says. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

I let out a bashful chuckle, “I barely did anything, you worked hard for this, you should feel proud.”

She smiles, her smile is intoxicating. But then after a moment it diminishes into something slightly sad.

“Are… are you okay?” I say.

A few moments pass by. I can hear a police siren in the distance and my mom snoring in the room above me.

“Barry, do you ever think about me?” she says.

Constantly. 

“What do you mean?” I say.

She shakes her head, looking down with a sad smile. “Every guy in school looks at me the same way, like they want to maul me or something. Not you. Why?”

“Um, gee, I don’t… I don’t know." I sit up on an elbow and scratch my bedhead. "I mean, I respect you. I mean, you’re beautiful. You’re insanely beautiful but... You’re not just that, you know? I mean, you’re smart and… and you make me laugh. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why sorry?” She looks amused.

“Because, I mean, I know you couldn’t possibly feel anything like that, for me.” Why am I so much more articulate in my head than I am out loud? I've never been able to figure that one out.

She gives me a look I can’t quite discern, and before I can attempt to decipher it, she’s scooted onto my lap.

“Uh, Iris I… uh” I sit up straight and frantic, but she places her hands on my ribs, stilling me.

“Its okay Bear,” She says, her nose is not even three inches from mine. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Iris I—  
“Shh,” she places her finger on my lips. “Not so loud, you’ll wake your parents.”

I can’t trust this, she wants something, or I’m dreaming, there’s no other logical explanation.

“Why are you doing this?” I say, quietly.

“Because, I think you’re sexy Barry Allen,” she says it with no sarcasm whatsoever, how does she do that? “Don’t you notice how I play footsies with you under the table?”

“I—yeah, I noticed, I just--”

“You know everything, like, everything” she says. “And when you get all excited about atoms and things and you start flailing every which way, kind of makes me want to tie you down.”

I really hope there are enough blankets between her and my erection.

“So, I’m going to ask you again Barry Allen,” she grabs my chin and makes me look her in the eye. “Do you think about me?”

My voice is almost a whisper as I stare at her, bewildered. “I do, I think about you all the time.”

“Good,” she says, looking satisfied. “Do you want to kiss me before I go on home?”

I’ve never wanted anything more, I don’t even want Harvard as much as I want to kiss her.

I nod my head, if I speak it will come out stupid and shaky. Just then she leans in to kiss me, and I keep telling myself not to mess it up. Apply firm but gentle pressure, don’t use too much tongue, remember to move your lips with hers, tilt your head from one side to the other, brush noses, touch her, but not in an obscene way. I touch her waist and pull her closer, because I need her closer. I wrap my arms around her middle and hers go around my neck and I’m kissing her, I'm kissing Iris. Her mouth is amazing, her body feels so good in my arms that’s it’s going to hurt physically to let her go. There’s nothing in science to support how I feel right now. This can _not_ be science.

She touches her forehead to mine when she pulls away. I was right, it hurts.

her breath shakes when she exhales, but her voice is steady when she speaks. “Don’t sell yourself short Allen,” she says, she corrects my askew glasses and taps me playfully on the chest with her open palms before giving me one final soft kiss. “You kiss like a demon.”

Before I can say anything more, she’s off my lap and out my window.

I’m starting to think that none of that was a dream.

**That's all folks!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sara Lance is officially my arch nemesis. How could she expect to be anything but after daring me to go kiss Barry Allen in the middle of the night? Although it’s not that I don’t want to kiss him, I’ve wanted to kiss the big dork since the day we met. It was freshman year, we had the same desk in English and he pulled my chair out for me so I could sit down.

“Uh, miss west,” he'd said, reading my place card. I tried not to laugh and didn’t totally succeed. I think he thought I was laughing at him, and I was a little, but not because I wanted to make fun. He was just so cute, the kind of boy you wanted to tickle. And I’ll be frank, he’s absolutely gorgeous, not gorgeous like Oliver Queen, he’s a more delicate sort of gorgeous. He’s tall and slight, with mile long lashes surrounding his pretty green eyes. Also, I have a thing for boys in glasses, especially ones as smart as they look in them. Barry is that smart and then some, his hand is always the first to shoot up when the teacher asks a question and he never gets it wrong. 

He helps me with my studies after class. And he’s always polite and respectful, but frustratingly impersonal. I like to tell jokes to lighten him up, and when he laughs it makes my heart go pitter pat, he has a nice laugh, big and hearty. But he always reins it in before long, clears his throat, sits up straight and goes right back to talking physics. He’s not easily distracted when it comes to science, it’s almost like a challenge, one I’m happy to accept. I like to take off my shoe and run my foot up under his pantleg, just to watch him stammer and go all apple-cheeked. He frustrates me that one. I’d rather take him behind the stacks in the library and kiss him until he can’t remember what the theory of relativity is, but he’s too professional for that.

I thought I was very good about hiding how I stare at him sometimes, in class, and in the lunch room, but Sara must have noticed, she notices everything. It’s the only reason she’d dare me to do something as crazy as go to his house and kiss him. I should have picked truth, but she would have probably just made me admit the reason why I stare.

“I will not,” I say. 

“Come on,” Sara says. “You have to, that’s the whole point of truth or dare.”

“But why Barry Allen?” I say.

“Because you love him,” Sara says, she puts her arms around Nyssa’s neck and flutters her eyelashes cutely. “Doesn’t she Nyssa?”

“It’s quite obvious, yes,” Nyssa says.

My face feels hot at the accusation and I rub the back of my neck the way Barry does when I’m making him nervous.

“So obvious,” Laurel adds. “But don’t worry, we’re your best friends, we see things other people don’t. I don’t even think Barry has a clue.”

If he does, he certainly doesn’t show it. I wish he would show the slightest bit of interest in me. He’s the only single boy in school who hasn’t. Except maybe Oliver, who’s heart eyes are all for that sweet model UN club blonde with the crutches, Felicity Smoak. The way he looks at her whenever he offers to carry her books to class, that must be how I look at Barry, if so then it really must be obvious.

“You should do it, the boy won’t know what hit him,” Sara says. “I mean, you with him? Talk about every nerd’s dream.”

“He’s not that big of a nerd,” I say. 

“Oh please, he’s the biggest nerd in school,” Nyssa says. 

“If nerdiness was a disease there would be a charity walk just for him,” Sara says.

"If nerdiness was food he'd be morbidly obese by the end of the year," says Laurel, and she laughs and cowers playfully when I chuck my pillow at her.

I can’t really deny that it's true. But he’s still the cutest nerd I know. I wonder sometimes what it would be like for us, if we were a couple, God knows I’d hear about it. I don’t care so much about that though, I’ve never paid much mind to what people think of me, but Barry’s so shy, that kind of attention could be hard on a boy as shy as Barry. Nobody has to know if that’s what he wants. I could kiss him in private every chance I get. He looks like he’d be a good kisser, he looks like he’d be good at making love too if he gets enough practice at it. He’d be the attentive, eager to please sort. I’d only ever been with Eddie before we decided we were better off as friends, but I liked it. I think I’d like it with Barry too, I’d have to show him how, where to touch me, what to do with that pretty mouth of his, but it would be worth it. He’s been my tutor all school year, If it comes down to it I'll be more than happy to be his. And suddenly, going to his house to kiss him seems like not the worst idea. 

I have my midterm report with me, I was going to show him on Monday how he helped me with my subjects, but maybe I can show him now, give him a kiss for thanks, a long, deep kiss with hands everywhere. But what if he doesn’t feel the same after all? What if he’s never even come close to thinking about me that way? I’m not a brain like he is, it could be a dealbreaker for him. And I doubt it, but what if he’s more like Nyssa and Sara? I don’t think he is, but if he is that might explain a lot. Maybe I can set him up with that deaf boy Hartley if that’s the case, they would make a cute couple, and Barry can learn sign language super fast because he learns everything super fast, like making love I’m guessing.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t respect truth or dare rules, it’s just, I really don’t think I’m his type,” I say.

“Oh please, you’re everyone’s type,” Sara says, swiping the air in front of her nonchalantly, “Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one with a staring problem, I swear to God every time you’re not looking that kid is all eyes on Iris West.”

He is? Is that why he’s never made any sort of move, because he’d rather pine on his own than do something about it? It makes sense, he is shy after all. Maybe my little game under the table in the library isn’t enough. Maybe I need to be more direct than even that. There aren’t many things more direct than going to a boy’s house at eleven thirty at night and kissing him stupid.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself mentally for what I’m about to do. Barry only lives a few blocks away. I went there a few times back when they were renovating the library and we needed a place to study. Luckily Nyssa’s dad is fast asleep, and not even particularly frightening when he’s awake. We can do this fast and be back before anyone’s any the wiser.

“Okay,” I say. And I get up to start changing out of my pajamas and into the clothes I came in. “I’m going to do it, I’m going to go to his house and kiss him.”

Laurel and Sara let out simultaneous squeals, while Nyssa settles for an amused smirk. Before long we’re dressed and out the window.

When we get to Barry’s house all of the lights are off. I’m quiet as I shimmy around the bushes and to his window. I knock quietly and wait.

“Maybe they aren’t home,” I say, after a few moments, looking back at my friends.

“Nope, car’s in the driveway,” Sara says. I was reluctant at first, but now that I’m here, I can’t leave unkissed. I know it’s probably not the smartest Idea, but I check to see if his window is open, hoping against hope that I’m remembering correctly where his room is. I’d be in for a world of embarrassment If I sneaked into his parents room by accident. I’ve seen Barry’s dad, he’s handsome and all for an older man, but he’s not the one I came here for, and I doubt his wife would appreciate it.

The window is open, and I’m careful and quiet as a mouse when I climb in.

***

When I climb back out, the look on their faces is one of pure anticipation, but we get far out of earshot of the house before we let ourselves dissolve into excited gossip.

“How was it?” Sara says. “Was it weird, did he drool a lot?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It was perfect.”

“Wait, seriously?" Laurel says. “Are you sure you kissed the right Barry Allen?”

I’m sure, and it was better than perfect, it was sweet and tentative and passionate all at once. I always knew that Barry was always so folded in on himself because he didn’t quite know what to do with all that passion, but I see it. Every time his hand shoots up in class, every time he laughs at my jokes and has to stop himself, every time he goes into one of his tangents about string phenomenology with nary a stammer, I see that passion, and I felt it to the tips of my toes when he kissed me. All I want to do is kiss him again, and again and again. I’m taking him behind the stacks on Monday and there’s not a damn thing that’ll stop me.

“I’m sure,” I say, linking arms with Laurel.

“So, are you going to ask him to winter formal?” Sara says

“He should ask you,” Nyssa says, “Why should you do all the work?”

I hope he asks me, I want to see him in a tux and a cute little bowtie, a bowtie would be perfection on Barry Allen.

**Stay tuned Folks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to leave this at T, but be warned, there be a bit of smut here.

So as it turns out I’m in love, and not just any sort of love. This is the hopeless, agonizing, debilitating sort of love I was convinced didn’t really exist. I always thought that love was just another trick of the mind, meant to drive humans toward procreation. Granted I love my mother and father, but romantic love, the kind I feel so strongly now, about that I was skeptical at best. Before she came to my room and kissed me, I was convinced my feelings were merely chemical, but now that we’ve been going out for nearly five months, I’m sure that it can’t possibly be that. If it were merely chemical I’d be able to feel this way about other girls. But when I’m with Iris it’s like there are no other girls, not even Felicity, I was nothing but happy for her when she said she was going steady with Queen. Of course I’m awfully fond of Felicity, I would go as far as saying I love her as a friend, but not the way I love Iris. I love Iris in a way I can’t explain no matter how many times I turn it over in my head. So I’ve stopped trying to explain it. No longer do I consider things like heightened serotonin levels or pheromones. I’m in love with her, plain and simple.

And this is why my life is over.

That acceptance letter has been haunting me since February. We got ours at the same time. She was so excited when she told me. For awhile she was convinced she would never get into a good school on account of how she slacked off in freshman and sophomore year. But with strong test scores, solid final grades, and eclectic extracurricular activities, she was accepted into one of the best schools in Central City, that’s right, Central City. The second she told me I completely lost my nerve, and left the letter right where it was in my blazer pocket. She keeps getting on me to call them, she says there’s no way it should have taken this long to hear back from them. I should tell her that I got in, but I don’t know how. There’s no way she would let me choose her over Harvard.

I want to choose her, because the thought of losing her makes my heart hurt. It’s hard to believe that loving her was so difficult at first. When we first started seeing each other I didn’t know what to do or say to keep her from changing her mind about me, so I usually didn’t say much at all. It never seemed to faze her much though. She’d talk enough for both of us those first tentative days. Since I was forever trying not to say anything stupid to scare her away, we kissed a lot back then, all the time and everywhere. I tried to be respectful, not to cross any major boundaries, so she had to tell me what was and wasn’t okay. Before long it felt a lot more natural to let my hands wander, and kiss her places besides her lips. I like kissing her neck the best, because she’s ticklish and her body trembles against mine, and sometimes her laugh dissolves into this sound, like a sharp exhale. This is crass I know, but whenever she makes that sound, I’m convinced it’s a pg version of what she must sound like when she comes.

These thoughts invade my mind more and more. I can’t rid myself of them. She’s the girl I could see myself marrying one day, I shouldn’t let my mind go to these places when I think of her, but I can’t help it. I sometimes feel like I’m going to die if I don’t make love to her soon, like my heart will just stop beating. I would never tell her such a thing of course, because that’s the sort of thing guys say to girls to try to trick them into bed, and I would never want to trick her into loving me, and she’s not stupid enough to be tricked anyway. It’s hard though, trying to keep my physical distance when all I can do is fantasize about what every inch of her must taste like. I nearly lost my composure at the drive in theatre last week, I had her laid down in the back of the car, and I was kissing her neck and she was making that noise, and my hand found itself under her panties. I stopped myself before we reached the point of no return, and she almost looked disappointed. The truth is I’m afraid to go further, I want to be good at it. I want to leave her grasping hard at her bed sheets and panting, but I’ve never been with a girl before and I just know that I’ll leave her disappointed. Also, I haven’t told her I love her yet, and she hasn’t told me either. I can’t be with Iris in such a way unless I know that she loves me.

But maybe her not loving me would be better. If she doesn’t love me it will hurt, possibly more than I can bear, but at least then I wouldn’t have such a hard decision to make. Harvard or Iris? Iris or Harvard? Happiness or success? Love or prestige? Let’s do a little simple compare and contrast.

Harvard has the best science programs in the united states, many of its graduates go on to make groundbreaking discoveries, walk the planets, invent cures for devastating diseases, write masterworks.

Iris West _is_ the best girl in the United States, she _is_ a groundbreaking discovery, she makes me feel like I can walk the planets, there’s no cure for loving her but I don’t want one, I could write a 900 page book about her smile alone.

So you see my problem here? It’s not even just because she’s beautiful, and fun and sexy, she’s all of those things, but above all I find myself constantly in awe of her compassion and bravery. It’s a brave girl indeed who can walk hand in hand with the school’s most awkward person and not give a solitary care what anyone thinks, who can dish it out as well as she can take it when someone makes an insulting comment about us. She makes me feel brave too. When that miserable lech Guy Gardner grabbed a handful of her behind at Oliver Queen’s birthday party, I knew she could have handled him herself, but I became too angry to consider that at the moment, and I sprained my wrist punching his face. She’s been teaching me the proper way to punch ever since so I don’t hurt myself if there’s ever a next time, but still, I punched someone hard enough to send him to the floor and bruise his eye, I never would have had the nerve to do that if she didn’t inspire me the way she does. She makes me better.

I know I have to tell her, it’s wrong to lie to anyone but especially her, she’s never lied to me, she even told me the truth about Eddie Thawne, her last boyfriend. I knew on some level that she wasn’t a virgin when we got together, but knowing she’d been with one of the most popular guys at school in the biblical sense made me even more nervous about the prospect of losing my virginity to her, even though no one else can have it.

I have to make a decision. The time to confirm is less than a week away. I look at the letter again, It’s been folded and refolded so many times it’s nearly broken into four pieces. I sigh deeply as I put it in my breast pocket and head for the door.

****

I know he’s hiding something, I just wish I knew what. I can trace it back to February when I showed him my college acceptance letter. He was so proud he lit up, and picked me up and twirled me around and kissed me senseless, and then the second I asked about his letter his face immediately fell. I’m scared he didn’t get in and doesn’t know quite how to tell me. But how stupid must Harvard be if it won’t let Barry in? Bartholemew Henry Allen is a genius and if Harvard doesn’t see that, it can’t be so great after all. Still, I wish he would tell me if that’s the matter, so I can tell him it’s going to be okay, that there are still plenty of great colleges that know what a find he is, maybe closer ones, not that I’d be as selfish as to hope for that, just looking for silver linings.

In fact, if he didn’t get in I’ll be a little disappointed, but not in him, never in him. I’ll be disappointed because I had a plan. I was going to take him to celebrate our college acceptance with a really fancy date, one with dinner and dancing, a grown up type of date, and after I would take him back to my house (on a night dad works of course), and I would tell him that I love him, and I would undress him and let him undress me, and I would take his virginity. There’s nothing I want more than that boy’s virginity. If he didn’t get in to Harvard I’ll still gladly take it, it was just a really nice plan I had.

I wonder if he knows that I love him, I like to think I’ve given hints, but Barry, smart as he is, isn’t always good at taking them.

He called just a few moments ago and said he was coming over, I hope it’s to tell me he got in. I know that Harvard is far away, and being far away from Barry for four long years will be complete torture, but I’m willing to try. I would never ask him to sacrifice his dream to be with me, we can find a way to make it work. We have to find a way.

When he knocks lightly on the front door I’m a little frantic in going to answer it. I greet him like I always do, with a kiss and a quick adjustment of his bowtie. I like to fix his bowtie even when it isn’t crooked, just another excuse to touch him.

“Iris,” he says sadly. “Is your dad home?”

“No,” I say, he’s immediately relieved. My dad has always been a bit standoffish toward Barry, like any little thing could potentially give him a violent shove off of the fence, like catching Barry in the throes of passion with his 18 year old daughter.

We kiss each other again and it goes from chaste to heated fast as he backs me toward my room. But there’s something different in his kiss, something desperate and pained.

“You okay Bear?” I say, pulling away and cradling his face in my hands. He doesn’t even have to say anything for me to know the answer, it’s in his eyes. Still, he shakes his head. I close my door, take his hand, and walk him toward my bed.

“What’s wrong? Tell me,” I say

He takes a deep breath and tries to still himself, and he reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a worn looking sheet of linen paper folded twice. He hands it to me silently and I open it.

_Dear Mr. Allen, we are pleased to inform you…_

“Oh my God,” I touch his chest as I read the opening lines of Barry’s acceptance letter. “You got in!”

I throw my arms around him. I’m so proud I could burst, but somehow he doesn’t seem to share my excitement.

“Barry, how are you not erupting with joy right now?”

“You know why Iris,” he says sadly. “I can’t do this, I can’t.”

"What do you mean, you have to, I mean, this is Harvard, _The_ Harvard, if you don’t confirm then I will.”

He doesn’t look swayed, and suddenly I'm starting to get it, why he looks so sad all of a sudden, something doesn’t add up. For one, if he’s just finding out about Harvard, why does the letter look so worn and creased?

“Barry,” I say carefully. “When did you get this letter?”

He looks ashamed, and he admits that he’s known since February. I don’t know how to react to that, how could he possibly keep that from me?

“And you’re just telling me now?”

“I’m sorry, I thought of telling you a hundred times I just, I didn’t know how.”

“What made you think I’d be anything but over the moon for you?”

“So just like that, I go to Harvard and you stay here?”

Oh Barry, my adorable little genius. I twine my fingers with his and let a few silent moments pass us by.

“Listen, Barry," I say. "I know it’s far, and it’s scary, but I promise you that you don’t have to worry about us.”

“You say that now, but what happens when you go to campus and every guy wants to be with you and they’re all sophisticated and handsome and play sports and can get through entire sentences without going off about particle physics...

“Barr-

“And you realize that your high school boyfriend Barry is just that, a high school boyfriend, which statistics show less than 10 percent of which actually go on to marry their high school girlfriends, and I’m studying all the time and you’re studying all the time and doing LaCrosse and boxing and going to big parties and we never get to talk to each other...

“Bear-

“And you start to resent me because all of the handsome guys with their sports and their social skills want to date you and you start to want to date them but you can’t because you’re too goodhearted to ever cheat on me…

“Barry-

“And-

“I love you!” I finally say.

That's enough to shut him up. He’s looking at me now like he’s afraid I might take it back, but I won’t, not ever.

“You what?”

“I love you you idiot,” I say. “And being away from you for so long, it’s going to be hard, but not as hard as the thought of keeping you from becoming everything I know you can be. Harvard is your dream Barry.”

“It was my dream,” Barry says. “That dream was all I had, for years, but that isn’t true anymore. I don’t have to change the world.”

“Yes you do,” I say. 

“Then come with me,” he says. To Harvard? I’d never get into Harvard, maybe Holliday college, it’s only 50 miles from Harvard, but I didn’t apply there. I didn’t know that Barry would happen when I filled out my college forms. Maybe I can transfer after my first year at CCU. But changing schools for a boy? Could I really set aside my feminist principles in such a way? Although Holliday college is renowned for its women’s studies program (I’m still undeclared for the time being), and leaving the state for college sounds much more independent then staying in Central City and living at home all four years, Laurel is going to Starling City for college, so are Felicity and Oliver, and Nyssa and Sara are traveling for a year together before college. Compared to their plans, and Barry's, mine seem almost small. It’s something to think about, but best case scenario we’ll still be away from each other a whole year. Can I do even that?

“Barry, look, you’re not going to lose me okay?” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”

His smile starts to come back, and he reaches over to grab my hand.

“I love you too,” he says. This is where my plan goes completely out the window.

It starts slow, we kiss for awhile before I start to undo his bowtie. He pulls away and asks me if I’m sure, and I swear that I am. So he starts to unbutton my shirt with shaking hands. I tell him it’s okay, and he gets it off and slides it off my shoulders. 

We have everything off before long, even his glasses, and he tries to stay cool and collected when he sees me naked the first time, but he doesn’t quite succeed.

“I know I have no concrete proof,” he says between kisses when we’re under the covers, pressed together. “But I think you might just be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

I kiss him appreciatively, surprised he’s managing to be this smooth so far.

“Now have you been vaccinated properly? Because while I wouldn’t have been exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases the traditional way you can never be too safe. I’ve had a full panel.”

And there he is.

I call him a dork and get him on his back. I have to admit it’s a good question, and yes, I’ve had my shots, including one for birth control. 

“Try to breathe okay?” I tell him, and I sink down onto him. He lets in a sharp breath at the sensation, so new to him. He’s a good size and I feel him completely, and more as I start to move.

“It’s okay to touch me,” I say, and he does, he puts his hands on my breasts, sending a little twinge to just the right place, he tries to keep his breathing steady. He’s never done this before, and I know it’s hard to keep from losing control right away when you’re a boy and having sex for the first time ever, but I hope he can last, because he feels so good inside of me.

He sits up so he can kiss me and hold me closer, and it feels even better, to be close to him, because we won’t be able to for awhile once the summer is over. I’ll take advantage of the next few months, in every way I can. I start to move and remind him to move with me, and he brings his hips in and out, slow and steady at first, then faster. His movement becomes less fluid after awhile. I look at his face and see how he’s going red and feel how hard he’s clinging to me, and I know he’ll be spent soon. We collapse back onto the pillows and he clasps my hand in his, deseprerate and shaking

“Did you come?” he asks me after a few ragged breaths, I didn’t, but I was close, I tell him as much and he looks all dejected.

“It’s okay Bear, you did great for your first time,” I assure him, snuggling close.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not good enough.”

“Barry—

“Lie back,” he says, I’m a little confused but I do as he asks.

“Now,” he says quizzically. “I’m new at this, so you’re going to have to tell me what to do.”

He gets my legs apart and he pulls me down to the edge of my bed and kneels onto the floor.

“Wait, seriously?” I say.

“What you just did, that was incredible Iris, I literally saw stars that haven’t been discovered yet. I’m not leaving here until you’ve been thoroughly satisfied.”

It’s kind of hard to argue with that.

“Go slow at first, and keep your tongue flat. And the faster I breathe the faster you go, also don’t go straight for the nub, leave that for the end. Also don’t just use your tongue, I want to feel your lips too, but not your teeth, never your teeth. Do you think you can manage?” I say.

“I have a 5.0 GPA, I can manage.”

He dives in slow and careful at first, like I told him, and it’s…

Oh my god, oh my god he’s amazing at this. Oh dear lord have mercy on my wretched soul!

I look down at his head moving back and forth and I want to pull his hair but that might distract him. I go for my sheets instead. I’m clawing at my damn sheets now, and holy hopscotching hell! Remember to breathe Iris, hard and steady hard and steady. How is he even doing that? Does he have more than one tongue? Oh my god he went for the nub, he went for the nub, and… and…

“Bear!”

At the sound he gives me a few more soft licks. He wipes his mouth and repositions himself next to me. I’m still breathing hard and he wraps himself around me, kissing my temple.

“I love you,” He says. “I love you no matter what and no matter where okay?”

I turn to look at him, My Barry.

“No matter what.”

**That's all folks!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, that wasn't a mistake, Earth 2 Harvard is in Pennsylvania. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this story!


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